It seems that biggest mistake a human male of advancing years can make is to rely upon their long assembled conception of what women are and are not. When one has removed themselves of the simulacrum of media indoctrination of scenarios of interaction based upon endlessly re-birthed sequels what does one really come away with? The starkness of this impression perceptible only by one who is a male. For those who had a mother that was active in their formative existence, the experience of same shifts ones immediate perceptions to the starting point of a planetary body in steady orbit around the actions of that personality. That being a member of the insiders club whose membership in the positive sense of same is never challenged. But to those in that Post Apocalyptic era of middle age and old histories of terminated relationships the association in terms of empathy has fallen through the proverbial floorboards. Men seem comfortable as the deal makers and women ever indignant as the deal shakers. The female caught short past the illusions of eternal love and the security of family becomes a hard-nosed Arab trader. Those women are particularly intolerant of their contemporary males many of which are to their view broken down camels no longer able to provide secure decent conveyance to safe emotional oasis in the boundless desert of life. Men are vehicles of survival or destruction to many of them. But what are women?
The power of the illusion cast by the ruse of intellect seems no match for the frequent swing of animal emotions that have free reign in the normal actions of women. The observation and noting of same by males a form of unforgivable sin in the current political context. Though one thing is certain. Men and women are definitely nothing alike. The commonality occasioned by the upbringing of offspring the closest thing to consensus. Outside of that, one wonders what is mutually appreciable in an agreeable sense between them besides the blinding consummations of bygone recollections of youthful lusts? This may be simply a recitation of shortcomings of the observer? But it does hammer home the point that the inner workings of the female are wholly arcane even to those who pretend to emulate them in persistent attraction to effeminate behavior. A man may be complex. But his life has an inferred timeline. Start at point A and end up at point B while remaining ever mindful of the subsequent destination of point C. The impression of the female by a male immersed within this outlook sees his biological opposite as forever coasting around the same airport in a dirigible never landing nor wishing to. The question may be one of simple mutual unquestioning perpetual coexistence. Two halves not really being halves despite inferring a whole.
Perhaps that is why Shakespeare preferred his ‘fates’ to remain in a darkened cave blind with barely a single light-collecting eye between them? Not one of the three hags ready or willing to breach sunlight without the proper combination of makeup and dress. What is behind that impermeable fog of illusory beauty? A mystique that provides a base of power that females exert not only upon men but each other. If the smoke is cleared and the mirrored images are smashed what remains is alien creature that oft now one finds himself at odds with as a competitor. One that becomes mightily miffed if the dissipated passions of ones own youth is not magically revived and lavished upon them. True camaraderie in friendship is lost upon them and is plowed aside by the demand of solicitous emotions. Sex is demanded and then instantly employed as a weapon? The repressed discussion of a dearth of emotion a battleground. The ultimate most unforgivable sin in abandonment. Everything, no matter how heinous is ultimately forgivable in a male’s actions. You can slap, hit, punch or even kill! As long as you are thinking only of them. But all the creatures of Hell combined cannot approximated the fury of a woman that has been ignored by a man after being physically engaged in copulation. This does not mean he cannot be demoted to a damnable level of insignificance not worthy of a second thought in many cases. But her ego will not tolerate being trifled with as secondary to the conversation of the male in his original intent. “Perhaps he is indifferent?” “But he was, even for that one momentary instant, mine!“. I do not understand despite the equivalent ire of women who are incited by such declarations as stated above.